


kill the lights and kiss my eyes

by xerampelinae



Series: the thrill of knowing how alone (known) we are [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 14:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerampelinae/pseuds/xerampelinae
Summary: Adam and Shiro’ s relationship doesn't make it to Thanksgiving. The two days before Adam goes home, Shiro spends with Keith.Keith comes immediately for Shiro in the little four-seater that had been Shiro’s grandfather's; Shiro gets his school bag, duffel and himself in the car, shaking his head when Keith asks if they need to grab anything else.“Okay,” Keith says, and turns the car around.“I don’t know where to go,” Shiro says.“It’s not much,” Keith says, “but what's mine is yours.”-An origin story. Shiro and Keith meet, watch Shiro's relationship fall apart, and become roommates. Then they meet Keith's uncles.





	kill the lights and kiss my eyes

Shiro and Keith meet in a library, of all places. Most everything else follows at a later date, but they become friends when Keith gets distracted by the video documentary that Shiro’s watching on the making of a fairly famous documentary. Keith likes photography, but the closest he really gets to a decent camera is the ones that the school lends out that have been banged up to hell and back.

“Hey,” Shiro says when he notices Keith hovering behind him, hands raised to reach for some reference material that would maybe help with his after school job. “I’m Shiro.”

“Keith,” he admits reluctantly, feeling caught-out.

“I’m not very far in,” Shiro says, offering up an ear bud. “Want to watch with me?”

Keith thinks about it. Thinks about the minimum wage job he’s working around the legal requirements of school attendance, the job where he’s treated like crap and the hours suck but it’s a little less he needs to ask of his uncles. They want him to go to college but he can’t ask them to pay for it. It’s a circular problem.

“Okay,” Keith says, rather than _I was either going to work on homework or catch a micronap, dealer’s choice._ He doesn’t know why he agrees, but he does.

Shiro beams and skips back to the beginning of the documentary.

-

The second time they meet, Shiro is sheepishly but determinedly trying to eat a charred vegetable stirfry. At least the bed of rice it’s on is decent. Keith is trying very hard not to be judgemental.

“I’m not very good at cooking,” Shiro says bashfully. Frowning, Keith sits down across from Shiro and puts his own container of home-cooked food between them.

“Thanks, Keith,” Shiro says. Keith distracts himself with the thought that Shiro’s like a friendly, eager puppy too cute to be anything but a shiba inu, and prepares himself to forget because someone will definitely stop this poor boy before he burns his house down.

But it doesn’t. It happens a second time, a third time. Shiro’s boyfriend Adam or one of their friends will offer up their meal to share, and Shiro will accept a small amount while hiding that fact. Eventually Keith accepts Shiro’s offer of a ride home which somehow turns into studying together at Shiro’s house.

Keith walks into the kitchen to wash his hands and freezes with his hands dripping.

“Shiro?” he says.

Neck-deep in the refrigerator, Shiro calls back, “Yeah?”

“This is mine now,” Keith says, cradling and lifting the pan from the drying rack.

“Huh?” Shiro says, finally looking back at Keith.

“Crimes against food,” Keith says. “No more.”

“My grandpa is--” Shiro says, soft-voiced and eyes cast down.

The house is quiet, except for the distant shuffling of the home nurse that comes by while Shiro’s off at school or the extracurriculars his grandfather insists he not give up.

“It’s fine,” Keith says awkwardly but determinedly. “I know a little. We can make this work.”

“Keith,” Shiro says. “You don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Keith says. “I’m serious about this cookware. I want to use it.”

“Oh,” Shiro says. “Alright.”

-

Shiro never does get cooking or baking down, but he learns to cut vegetables to Keith’s satisfaction. Together, they don’t starve.

-

Shiro’s real apartment is closer to Adam’s college than it is to Shiro’s. They don’t really explain why it was chosen. At first he makes light of it--time to rest his eyes on the train, except he has to switch lines and still walk a bit, or can use the time for studying or grading papers--but as time goes on, it wears at him. The apartment doesn’t have the capacity for parking, so Shiro has no relief there.

“Okay,” Keith says one afternoon when they’re meant to be reviewing shot style for a project Shiro’s been working on. He wants to master it but it’s next to impossible with the way he’s swaying at the Keith’s kitchen counter. “Nap time buddy.”

“I’ve got work to do--” Shiro tries to say, but the words are garbled and Keith is tugging him up and back into the shoebox that functions as his bed.

“Sleep,” Keith says, firm and something like worried as he tucks Shiro into the sheets and layered blankets. Shiro obeys.

-

Shiro sleeps for three straight hours and after that it becomes a habit. It’s easier to face the train home when he knows he won’t pass out on it. What it doesn’t help with is the distance that seems to be opening up between Shiro and Adam.

At first Adam looks at Keith like Shiro’s pet, beloved for a time and then forgotten once the relationship loses its gloss and interest fades. But it doesn’t. When Shiro’s grandpa dies senior year, Keith is there helping Shiro pack the apartment up. He sleeps on the spare futon several times a week at least, so Shiro isn’t alone too much. Adam himself only sleeps over a couple times, between his parents’ preferences and his attachment to his bed. Then college comes.

They both get into Adam’s choice. But Shiro doesn’t choose it; Adam doesn’t know why he’s surprised. But he is and he isn’t.

“This one offers a lot more in financial aid,” Shiro says. It’s almost from rote memory at this point. “It has a program with an extensive network of alumni all over the world, and even outside of it. They’re connected to some amazing internships.”

“There are ways to pay for school,” Adam says. He’s said this before, too.

“I don’t want to take out a massive student loan,” Shiro says with a shake of his head. “Adam, I don’t want to argue about this.”

They put the topic down then, but it lingers close enough to cast a pall over the remainder of the day: dinner plans, then the awkward small talk made until Shiro switches to studying. Adam disappears sullenly to bed; Shiro falls asleep against the coffee table. He pretends, for a minute, that the numbness in his arm when he wakes is from how awkwardly he’d slept. Then he lets that surety slip and starts preparing for another long day.

“I feel bad crashing at your place all the time,” Shiro mumbles later.

“You’d know if I didn’t want you here,” Keith says, like it’s all as simple as that.

Shiro grimaces and buries his face in Keith’s pillow.

“Shiro,” Keith says. He turns enough to watch Shiro, to puzzle out this strange remark and response. “What’s going on?”

“Just a lot going on right now,” Shiro says reluctantly.

“I’m not a kid,” Keith says, needling. “Tell me what’s going on.”

It startles a huff of laughter out of Shiro, even though it shouldn’t. “I think everything’s falling apart and I don’t know what I should do. I don’t even know if I want it to not fall apart.”

Keith’s hand seeks out Shiro’s wrist and settles there, warm and grounding. Nothing sympathetic, nothing that sets Shiro’s hackles up like the hands, nosy people peddling false concern for gossip fodder. “Is this a relationship thing or is it a hell commute thing?”

Shiro thinks for a long moment. “It’s--” he says, “--hm. It’s an Adam thing, but it’s also both.”

“Okay,” Keith says. “We can talk about it, or I can let you sleep. Your pick.”

“He wants things,” Shiro says without further waffling, “that cost funds and effort.”

“Let me guess,” Keith says, “with you making the payments?”

“That’s what it feels like,” Shiro says. “Every time we try to talk about it, we end up talking in circles without resolution.”

Keith is quiet for a long moment. “You’re planning on meeting up about a group project this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. He hadn’t really wanted to meet up for it then, but no weekday times had worked for everyone. This was not a project that could be done solely via Google docs.

“Why don’t you just stay over?” Keith says. “Catch up on your sleep and your grading.”

Shiro’s shoulders rise and fall with several breaths as he thinks. “Is that fair to him?”

Keith shrugs. “Is this fair to you?”

“Sometimes I think he's thinking that I care more about this program than I care about him and time with him,” Shiro says, “or that I'm being unfaithful.”

Keith’s thumb brushes Shiro’s pulse, gentle and non-intrusive. It’s a pleasant diversion from the thoughts he can't escape. “That’s a lot to be carrying,” Keith says. “Remember Kolivan?”

“Your godfather?” Shiro says. 

“Yeah,” Keith says. “He says--if I want to go to school, he'll help me. That education has always been the way out of poverty.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, heart shaking in his chest with sudden joy, “that's amazing!”

For a single heartbeat, Keith stills. Then he laughs and shakes his head. “Thanks, Shiro. I meant--I think college means something different for Adam.”

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, remembering how Adam’s parents had contributed to the new apartment. Not that it wasn't okay, but--Shiro had had only his grandfather, and now he didn't. 

“What do you want to do?” Keith asks.

“I want to sleep,” Shiro admits. “For longer than six hours on an Ikea coffee table.”

“Well,” Keith says, clambering up next to Shiro because he knows it helps him sleep. “The bed is yours. I'll wake you up before your class.”

“Thanks, Keith,” Shiro says.

-

Adam and Shiro’ s relationship doesn't make it to Thanksgiving. The two days before Adam goes home, Shiro spends with Keith. 

Keith comes immediately for Shiro in the little four-seater that had been Shiro’s grandfather's; Shiro gets his school bag, duffel and himself in the car, shaking his head when Keith asks if they need to grab anything else.

“Okay,” Keith says, and turns the car around.

“I don’t know where to go,” Shiro says.

“It’s not much,” Keith says, “but what's mine is yours.”

That startles the first tears into spilling down Shiro’s cheeks. 

“For as long as you need,” Keith says, eyes on the road as it merges with a major thoroughfare. Shiro sobs and Keith startles, eyes darting about at Shiro, at the tightly-packed road for a place to pull over.

“It's--” Shiro says, throat seizing up before he can say anything like _I'm fine_ or any other socially acceptable blatant lies. “Keep driving, Keith, please.”

“Alright,” Keith says, glancing at him quickly. “You don’t have to talk about if you don't want, but you can if you want.”

“He thought I was cheating,” Shiro says finally. “With you. I don’t think he ever believed me when I said we weren’t--I think he just gave up, in the end.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” Keith says. “Not to him at least.”

It’s then that the thought hits him: it’s over, and Shiro feels impossibly lighter. He’s laughing before he knows it, even as he cries. Keith buys him fries on the way home.

-

Thanksgiving break is packing up Shiro’s few possessions and packing them successfully into Shiro’s car, then unloading them into Keith’s apartment. He declines to unpack, unwilling to invade Keith’s space beyond what he has so far, only to open up what’s needed. It’s a gradual process that transforms the sparse living space into something homey without Shiro’s notice.

On Thanksgiving, there’s a knock on the door just as Keith and Shiro are debating the makings of an omelette. The food delivery person accepts the tip that Shiro rustles up from his wallet while Keith goggles at the note on the order form--from an undisclosed and remote part of the universe, Kolivan’s ordered an eclectic but tasty spread of take-out from a local Sichuan restaurant--that tells them to enjoy the meal and its leftovers.

While Shiro washes the dishes, Keith tries to videocall Kolivan; he doesn’t answer, but Keith leaves a message. Shiro waves from the background when identified but tries to be unobtrusive in what is clearly a personal missive. Later, Shiro will wonder what Kolivan received and what he took of it. In the meantime, Shiro helps Keith with his college applications and works on his own assignments. They sleep as much as they can, and even take time to wander the leaf-strewn streets, trading off Shiro’s camera between the two of them and snapping a few photos on their phones.

-

“Dude, I don’t know how to say it, but you look so much hotter right now,” Shiro’s lab partner Matt Holt says. “Have a good break?”

Shiro laughs, bashful and carefully keeping his gloved hands away from his face against the urge to hide behind them. “Yeah,” he says. “Ate good food in good company and caught up on some sleep. You?”

Matt laughs back. “Honestly, same. Got to spend some time with my little sister who’s honestly brilliant. I swear, she’ll probably be here studying by the time we’ve graduated.”

“Looking forward to it,” Shiro says.

-

Time turns ever onward. Shiro passes his first semester of classes and maintains his Honor’s scholarship. A professor--actually Matt’s dad, Sam Holt, though they only discover the connection later--sees one of his projects in the student gallery and invites Shiro on as intern for a summer project. Shiro is quietly added to the lease; he discovers when he goes to drop off the rent payment. He doesn’t know how Kolivan knows the details necessary for the application but they’re correct. Keith doesn’t really know what Kolivan does, only that he travels often and is resistant to both Keith and Shiro’s efforts of repayment.

Ever so slowly, thoughts of Adam and his accusations dissipate from Shiro’s mind. It had been a good relationship in its time, Shiro thinks, but it had fallen apart slowly. By the end, it had been a relief to let go.

Keith is Keith. He’s long outgrown their old high school, has only to take advantage of free classes and to choose where to alight next. Graduation is a formality at this point.

“I’m proud of you,” Shiro says one night as they look over Keith’s latest progress report. “You know that, right?”

For a moment, a hot flush spreads across Keith’s cheeks, and then he ducks his head. “That won’t get you out of vegetable duty, Shiro.”

“I would never even consider the thought,” Shiro says with mock solemnity and a hand over his heart. They laugh together and Shiro thinks about how much he wants to live in that moment forever. He ignores the way his heart squeezes at the thought of its end. Everything ends, one way or another. When Keith asks if Shiro would mind if Keith ended up in his program, Shiro ignores his traitorous heart and asks Keith to choose whatever program Keith is most interested in. There are three other colleges Keith’s submitted applications to, after all, and Keith is a dedicated student. Shiro remembers the way Adam had tried to sway his decision; he will not do that to Keith.

In the spring, just before Shiro’s college goes on break and just after the colleges send their responses back to Keith (two letters of acceptance, one waitlist, and one outright denial; better than expected, Keith says), they wake in the middle of the night to an insistent ringing. Shiro rolls blearily out of bed and goes for the lights while Keith grabs up his ringing phone.

“Kolivan?” Keith says, frowning as the call connects, and the sound of effortful breathing becomes apparent. Ten seconds later, the video comes online and Kolivan’s face comes into view. He’s shirtless, which is as unprecedented as the line of bandaging rounding his shoulder. Keith nervously grasps the little knife pendant that normally hangs below his shirt collar but that escaped while he slept.

“Apologies for the late hour,” Kolivan says.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks. Shiro settles on the edge of the bed, a firm line against Keith’s side. Present, but as non-intrusive as Shiro can manage while being silently supportive. Keith settles against him ever so much.

Kolivan’s mouth works as if struggling to gather words. “A recent mission went poorly. Among those injured is your other godfather, Antok, in a critical state.”

Antok’s is a name that Shiro’s heard only a handful of times in the years that he’s known Keith. Keith knows so little of his own past and had only been linked to Kolivan two years before, since passing into his care from the group home that was counting down until Keith aged out. The school trip in which they had met had been odd and grueling but it had left Keith somewhat more comfortable in his skin; before, Keith had been careful to never let his pendant slip clear of his clothing. 

It was survivor’s instinct to bury and conceal any vulnerable points, Shiro has come to understand, and it only makes him more grateful when Keith relaxes.

“What can I do to help?” Keith asks, ready as he offers to do a chore, or be a body appearing in one of Shiro’s projects. He is so ready to give of himself that it makes Shiro’s heart ache.

“I do not wish to disrupt your studies,” Kolivan says. The braid draped over his shoulder is dissipating. Outside the camera’s line of sight, Keith’s hand tightens into a fist.

“It’s almost spring break,” Shiro says. “There’s really not much to miss; you just need to send a message excusing his absence and have Keith send in his projects before they're due.”

“Thank you, Shiro,” Kolivan says. “Are you similarly available? It is better to not travel such distances alone--this station is not so near Earth.”

Shiro looks at Keith, at the carefully composed expression that falls into place: a practiced sort of not wanting something, lest he be disappointed, or maybe to prevent from adding to Shiro’s workload. Shiro’s not sure, but this is not a conversation to have in front of Kolivan. 

“I need to touch base on some things first,” Shiro says carefully. “Let me get back to you.”

“Very well,” Kolivan says, pale eyes too knowing. “I will speak with the other Blades as we finalize arrangements.”

Shiro doesn’t track the remainder of the conversation half as well as he usually does, pulling up his schedule and calculating what his finances can take, but finally Kolivan nods stoically to them and the video call terminates.

“I think I can come,” Shiro says as he and Keith sit silently in bed together. “My Friday class is already cancelled--think Whitman’s at a conference--and I have a little bit saved up, so I can cover my ticket. So, if you want me to come, I can.”

Keith looks up at him, eyes wide and wondering. “You--you’d do that?” Keith says slowly.

“Yeah, of course,” Shiro says, feeling his cheeks color. “I know how important they are to you, even if you’ve only met them recently.”

Ducking his head, Keith lunges suddenly into Shiro’s arms; Shiro can only laugh and tighten the embrace. Keith doesn’t even leave Shiro’s arms before he’s sending the message to Kolivan. The response comes less than a minute later: two tickets from the local spaceport in their names, to leave early in the morning.

“He didn’t have to,” Shiro says, soft because he doesn’t want to distract Keith where he’s puzzling the closet.

Keith, of course, is always paying attention. “I think he wanted to,” he says, and then they’re working Shiro’s suitcase clear of the textbooks stacked at the front of the closet. There’s space enough to share, and Keith has no real luggage to his name. The remaining time falls to packing.

-

The closest either of them have come to travelling as much as this trip is probably the school trip that had taken their two classes to the ISS--the same trip, of course, shaped and overshadowed by Keith’s eventful meeting with the Blades, some of whom turned out to be part of his parent’s clan. Next to that were the trips Shiro had taken with his grandfather before his health failed.

Travel is the age old song and dance of confused traveller and defiant, bureaucratic nonsense. Still, as with many things, travel is often better done with company. Keith is confident, and that more than anything is grounding when Shiro worries about the myriad tiny obstacles that come up in travel.

It’s a cramped sort of travel--they're not small men, and they're still young enough to grow more--but they make it from one leg to the next. At the ISS, they have an hour before they board. They eat together and cycle through the bathroom, one left to watch their meager luggage and then the other, and then they settle in for the wait. 

Keith catches Shiro rubbing at his shoulder above his still-numb arm, then settles easily at his back. Keith doesn't even wave off Shiro’s token protests, beginning at the coiled tension of his shoulders and all the way down to his lower back, so that Shiro can maybe do some exercises without hurting himself. Carefully, Shiro presses his mouth to his arm and leans against the seatback in a way that opens up Keith’s access; Keith has strong hands that easily pick out each painful knot and Shiro worries for the sounds he might let slip in their uncrowded gate.

Shiro kind of wants Keith to never stop, to never truly let him go. Keith, for his own part, keeps massaging until the gate agent calls all five passengers to board. Even then, they board and Keith falls asleep against the slope of Shiro’s chest. It makes something that Shiro is reluctant to examine ache in his chest. Keith is so much; he cannot lose Keith. 

Keith shivers. Shutting his eyes, Shiro wraps his arm around Keith, pulling him close. Keith only nestles closer, breath hot and weirdly endearing on Shiro’s throat.

Finally they reach port and deboard, scanning for Thace, whom Kolivan has said would pick them up. Kolivan had sent a brief dossier with the photo of a stern-looking Galra. 

“Keith,” a tall Galra says. His face is familiar. “Shiro.”

“You must be Thace,” Shiro says when Keith slows to a halt and stays quiet. He sets his hand on Keith’s lower back, not to push but to remind Keith he's not alone in this strange new frontier.

“I am,” the Galra says. Keith nods, a quick, sudden movement. “Come, it is not far.”

Before they really know what's going on, Thace is reaching out and picking up their backpacks and rolling suitcase. For one of them, the load is manageable for a short time; Thace dwarfs them and is seemingly unbothered by the weight of their accumulated baggage.

“Kolivan did not say you would be so small,” Thace says. 

“Oh,” Keith says.

“We, uh, didn't know he'd said anything,” Shiro says as he and Keith exchange a look.

“It is best to approach any task with as much preparation as can be managed,” Thace says. “The Blades have all studied your school photos in the event that emergency aid must be rendered.”

Shiro seriously begins to consider all that he knows about Kolivan and the other Blades, and whether they need to start working on an escape. He might be able to throw himself at Thace and keep him occupied long enough for Keith to get free. This, of course, counts on Keith being willing to leave Shiro behind. Keith has, on occasion, been described as “stupidly loyal” to Shiro based solely on factual Keith Stories, _thanks, Matt._

“What?” Keith says, high and sharp. 

“You are of our clan,” Thace says. “Your survival is a priority.”

-

“It’s weirdly flattering that they're so invested in you,” Shiro says. “I mean--that sounds terrible, I'm just glad there are others who see what I see.”

Keith stares him down wordlessly for a long, long moment. Then he's laughing so hard that Shiro can't help but join in. 

“I have zero idea to my second parent’s identity,” Keith says, shoulders shaking. “Even my birth certificate is classified material, the one I use has untranslatable Galran script.”

“Damn,” Shiro sighs, relaxing on the bed next to Keith. Kolivan had arranged with Thace for them to share his hotel room; he’s out in the hallway taking a call, and they’ll leave once he’s finished with it. “The secrets of Keith.”

“Not really,” Keith sighs. “Maybe ‘The Secret Origins of.’ I'm guessing I might be part Galra, based off the weird knife symbol thing that's going on.”

“Huh,” Shiro says. “Well, purple parent or not, you're still Keith.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith says flatly. Then the facade breaks and they’re laughing, clutching each other close.

-

Thace takes them to Kolivan’s room first. It is the first time that he and Keith have met since the school trip; it’s easy to forget how tall the Galra tend to be compared to humans.

“Keith, Shiro,” Kolivan says, as he often does on videocalls. Keith lingers in the doorway until Shiro comes up to his side and rests his hand at Keith’s waist.

“Hello, Kolivan,” Shiro says softly, “you’re looking better than you were.”

Kolivan nods. In the bed beside his, a bandage-wrapped Galra perks up.

“You are Keith and Shiro?” he says. “I am Ulaz.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Keith and Shiro murmur together.

Ulaz’s nod is stern and familiar. 

“Come,” Kolivan says, slipping out of the hospital bed onto his socked feet. “Antok is not yet awake but that does not mean we cannot visit him.”

-

Antok is an even bigger Galra than any of the other Blades they’ve met so far--not that they can really tell, given the way he’s shrouded in what look like gauzy veils.

“He took a blast to the chest,” Kolivan says, tone melancholy as he raises his hand to the outermost veil. “The atmosphere has been adjusted so as to accelerate the healing process.”

“Is he doing okay?” Keith asks.

“As well as one might expect,” Kolivan says. “The doctors cannot make guarantees but seem to be hopeful.”

“Oh,” Keith says, hand rising to where Kolivan’s had rested. He stares at Antok, prone and still.

“I am glad that you were able to come,” Kolivan says. “The nurses do not like when I come to visit him for long periods; they feel that I should first be discharged. Still, you are a child of our clan and are free to visit.”

Without looking away, Keith nods guilelessly. Shiro turns a dubious eye at Kolivan--he is sure that the nurses, despite their advanced technology, are unaware of Kolivan’s movements beyond his bed--but remains quiet when Kolivan meets his gaze evenly.

“I’ll come check on you,” Shiro promises, hand squeezing familiarly at Keith’s shoulder. Keith nods, hand tightening briefly on Shiro’s, and then they let go.

-

Shiro collects Keith for lunch, then dinner with Kolivan and Ulaz in their ward, then takes Keith back to their hotel room. It takes some cajoling to convince Keith to shower before crawling into bed; by the time Shiro emerges from his turn cleaning up, Keith is dead to the world, curled up so as to face Shiro in the night. The thin, fine chain at Keith’s neck is a dull, oxidized silver that hardly catches the light. Still, it catches Shiro’s attention just fine, this thin chain that carries the weight of all the history that Keith does not know.

The time change isn’t in their favor--that will change when they go back to Earth--but they take an hour to put themselves back together.

“Shiro,” Keith says fearfully in the morning. “I lost my necklace.”

They look through their discarded laundry and then the sheets of the bed. The broken chain is found coiled beneath the pillow, but without the pendant. Keith’s worry intensifies, but so too does Shiro’s determination.

“I don’t want to lose it, it’s the only thing left from my dad,” Keith whispers.

Determinedly, Shiro goes to his hands and knees, searching the floor around the bed despite worries for the frequency of its cleaning. All he finds are a handcuff key and dustbunnies, all of which he quietly leaves alone. He rises reluctantly, dusting off his hands, before a new glimmer catches his eyes.

There, tucked between the mattress and bedframe is the pendant.

Shiro offers it up, cupped between his two palms; Keith stares at him for a long moment with wide, wet eyes. Then Keith’s lunging forward, wrapping his arms almost too tightly around Shiro’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Keith whispers.

Hands cupped protectively together and trapped against his chest, Shiro nods, cheek brushing Keith’s soft, dark hair. “Of course, Keith,” he says. “Of course.”

-

Shiro doesn’t know why he brought it, not really, but he has an old platinum chain that his grandfather had kept of his wife’s jewelry after her death. There’s no doubt that it’s a tighter fit on Keith than Shiro’s grandmother--it settles delightfully at Keith’s collarbones, almost like a choker--but it fits.

The problem is that Keith knows that this must have significance to Shiro and therefore coaxes its story out without Shiro’s intention to reveal it.

“This is too much,” Keith protests, hands trapped in Shiro’s because he went to take the necklace off and Shiro couldn’t bear to see him do that.

“It’s better to be worn than not,” Shiro says, shaking his head. “I can’t wear it, but you--I want you to wear it.”

Keith says nothing to that, but his hands tighten around Shiro’s.

“Besides,” Shiro hears himself say, “we can’t fix your old chain, not with what we have. Better to wear it than lose it again, right?”

Keith nods, and if his hand rises often and absently to his throat for the pendant that settles in his jugular notch, well, Shiro won’t mention it, especially not after Keith offhandedly mentions that it’s colder and heavier but he likes it. Shiro knows he doesn’t have any right or monopoly to Keith’s attention; he will gather it up for memory like glimmering treasures the way a raven does for its nest.

The Blades are a different story. Between Keith showing up at visiting hours wearing a shirt that started off as Shiro’s and the shorter length of the chain, Keith’s pendant is prominently placed.  
Persons of lesser observational ability than actual spies take notice, if only more quietly because Keith does not tolerate their attention.

“My necklace broke,” Keith says when Ulaz asks. “Shiro helped me.”

“Oh?” Ulaz asks. Kolivan is a silent, watchful shadow beside him. Shiro pulls out his wallet to confirm that the keycard made it safely there.

“Yeah,” Keith says. Something in his voice makes Shiro look up, to meet his eyes. “He did.”

-

“You love him,” Kolivan says, after Ulaz has lured Keith away with a request to be lead to Antok’s hospital room.

“How can I ask more of him?” Shiro asks, meeting Kolivan’s gaze in the free breakfast room of the hotel. He has no stomach yet for anything past the sweet, black coffee steaming in front of him; Kolivan’s own cup is undoctored and sipped at readily despite its heat and bitterness.

“Love is many things, Shiro,” Kolivan says. He looks worn, as much as a person like Kolivan will allow. His purple skin sticks out less on Bethesda Station; Space Hospital, as it’s known, has more extraterrestrial visitors than their tiny patch of Earth typically sees. “Did you know that when he is unsure, the first thing he does is scan the room for you?”

Shiro has nothing to say to that.

“We know him in our own way,” Kolivan says, “from a familiar sort of distance. We rarely come so close unless on a mission with a fellow Blade. There is no shame in that, or in choosing differently.”

Laughing weakly, Shiro shakes his head. “You know, we still don’t know what it is that the Blades do.”

“The Blades of Marmora are intelligence agents,” Kolivan says.

Shiro chokes. “Oh.”

“For that matter,” Kolivan says, “have you and Keith considered marriage?”

Shiro blinks, once and then again. Kolivan’s image remains crisp, face stern as always. Sometimes Shiro wonders if Kolivan even allows his expression to change while having a very good meal.

“It is a fiscally responsible decision,” Kolivan says. “It will allow you to file taxes jointly as well as make household spending more efficient. In light of your health and current living arrangement, it would be wise to consider the unification of assets.”

“My health--?” Shiro says. “If I get sick, if I fall into medical debt, I’d be dragging Keith down with me.”

“Your university health plan is quite generous for married couples,” Kolivan says. “And even without it, you would not enter debt.”

“You’ve thought about this,” Shiro says numbly. “A lot.”

“Our clan would become your own as well,” Kolivan says. “The Blades take care of their own, and you have cared for our young Blade where we could not.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Shiro says. Someone knocks at the door and enters at Kolivan’s noise of assent.

“Shiro?” Keith says. “Are you alright?”

It’s a reversal of roles--Shiro’s the one that’s knows how to be in hospitals for extended periods of time, who reminds the healthy and the discharged to eat and sleep--and Shiro’s lost to the change.

“Shiro,” Kolivan says, not a test but a reminder of sorts. “Why don’t you go eat and rest. We have things well in hand here.”

It’s true: Kolivan and Ulaz are looking much more mobile, progressively shedding bandages with the passing hours. Even Antok is expected to fully awaken soon. The Galra are nothing if not a high metabolism, quickly healing people.

“Come on, Shiro,” Keith says, taking his hand. “I’ll take care of you.”

The fearsome thing, Shiro thinks, is that he believes Keith.

-

“Do you--” Keith says, nervous and unpracticed. “Do you want to talk about whatever it was?”

Shiro knows that if he says no, Keith will let the topic go. But then it might cause a cascade of things that are never said, that turn to poison between them. That--that Shiro could not bear. So he shuts his eyes, lying with his face pressed into the hotel pillow and his confusing, traitorous arm tucked beneath him, and forces himself to speak.

“Your uncle seems to think we should get married,” Shiro says.

“Which--which one,” Keith says.

“Kolivan,” Shiro says, “but maybe all of them? I mean, we don’t have to, just because your uncles think it’s a good idea.”

“But we do operate as a single household,” Keith says thoughtfully. “And this would allow us to merge costs more efficiently.”

“True,” Shiro says.

“What do you want to do?” Keith asks.

Shiro swallows against his suddenly dry throat, thoughtfully flexing his numb arm. “I think I might be sick,” he says. “I won’t drag you down.”

“Oh, Shiro,” Keith says, sighing gustily but fondly. “You wouldn’t. But forget the possibility for a moment; what do you want?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Shiro says, mouth moving against the pillow.

There’s a moment of quiet, then the bed squeaks with Keith’s weight as he clambers onto it and lays down on Shiro’s back. It’s a familiar, welcome weight, and Shiro finds himself relaxing at the way Keith hooks his chin over Shiro’s shoulder. “You won’t,” Keith says, resolute. “Whatever we choose.”

“But what do you want?” Shiro says, choking on the words as futile, senseless tears gather in his eyes.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” Keith says, soft in Shiro’s ear.

“But that’s you,” Shiro says, shutting his eyes. “You make me happy.”

-

“I think we’re getting married,” Keith says, the next time they visit the Blades in the hospital.

“Very good,” Kolivan says. “Have you had sex yet?”

Shiro splutters and turns red. “What? No!”

“It is a shared hotel room, after all,” Thace says. “I understand it is an insufficiently romantic setting for overtures of intimacy.”

“Oh?” Ulaz says. “That can be changed.”

“That’s not necessary,” Keith says with more grace than Shiro can manage, and nowhere near as much blushing.

“Still,” Kolivan says, “it is to our understanding that Earth custom requires a romantic sojourn following legal unification.”

“It’s not a requirement,” Shiro says numbly. “We don’t really have time or money for it.”

The Blades share a long, deep stare that must be meaningful, because suddenly they spring into motion. Thace tugs several flightsuits out of a bag that should not have the capacity for them, while Kolivan and Ulaz swiftly change into them. 

“Kolivan?” Keith says. “What’s going on?”

“The legal requirements may be taken care of at this time,” Kolivan says. “With appropriate timing, Antok may be alert enough now to join.”

“Antok’s awake?” Keith says, and, “we didn't bring our documents with us?”

“Yes,” Kolivan says. “Do not be concerned with the documents. The Blades of Marmora are with you.”

“Wow,” Shiro says, feeling a little dazed as he watches the Blades gear up with things he can’t quite identify because secret spy gear. “We're getting married.”

Keith sidles over. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess we are, if that’s what you want?”

“I do,” Shiro says, watching Kolivan and Thace slink silently out of the room. “Do you?”

Keith takes Shiro’s hand, smaller but warm and strong. “I do. I really do.”

-

“Hm,” Kolivan says, after they've signed the relevant documents. Shiro found himself suppressing nervous laughter and knows Keith wasn't far off from that himself. 

“Is something wrong?” Shiro asks carefully. 

“Well,” Antok says, peering over Kolivan’s shoulder. The other Blades crowd in.

“Due to the confidentiality of Blade information, Keith’s original documents tend to be considered classified information.”

“What do you mean?” Keith says. Shiro’s worrying that he accidentally got secret-married while unexpectedly eloping at Space Hospital. 

“Your marriage is a matter of public record, of course,” Thace says. “However, it is somewhat obfuscated and confidential due to Blade procedure and issues of translation.”

“Oh,” Shiro says.

“Congratulations on your union,” Kolivan says, taking a violet envelope from Antok and handing it to Shiro.

“Thank you?” Shiro says, eyes darting over to Keith, who shrugs.

Kolivan nods sternly. “It is lucky to give or receive a violet envelope,” he says. 

Thace nods and passes a violet envelope to Keith.

“Thank you,” Keith says, then seems to choke when he opens the envelope.

Concerned, Shiro opens up the envelope from Kolivan and chokes at the sight of many bills within it. 

“It is lucky,” Kolivan repeats in a tone that brooks no arguments.

-

“So,” Keith says, once they’re back in their apartment. Shiro’s crouched in front of the micro-sized washer and dryer that the Blades sent as a wedding present. They're small, portable, and cheaper than the coin laundry in the basement of the building. They also don't need to leave the apartment to do desperately-needed laundering, which is perfect for settling back in after a long trip. “How's married life, Mr. Shirogane?”

“Not bad, Mr. Kogane,” Shiro says. “My husband just got some great offers from some colleges, and he doesn’t even steal the blankets. I think I'll keep him.”

“You better,” Keith says, passing over another bundle of clothing to be sorted. “I hear he just accepted an offer from a local college and wants to ensure he has the best roommate.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, blushing, thinking of the hotel keycard tucked in his wallet as a memento of getting married. “I guess I better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's "To Be Alone." Thank you again to Spooky_foot!  
> Are the Galra Asian-coded? Yeah. Does that mean Zarkon is Space Genghis Khan? I'm tired and thought about this so uhhh raincheck on that.  
> Still kinda on tumblr where I'm xerampelinaekiss but a little more on twitter @belovedbacon since the great titty controversy started happening


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